PLEASE NOTE: This book contains graphic description ... - HUNSOR

was smashed. A partisan woman named Zorka from Zombor was the cruelest of all. The nakedpriest was fastened to a board, then they jumped on his belly, chest and genitals from a table inhobnailed boots, he was practically disembowelled. When he died from his wounds on October14, he was thrown out of an upstairs window onto the cobbled court, the cause of death wasgiven as suicide. (But what need was there for justification?)One of the partisan women was said to have been burdened by the memory of his murderthroughout her life. She became neurotic and she would frequently mention the priest's name inher nightmares. Those who believe in divine justice should know that the other four partisangirls, but especially Zorka, died in a very unfortunate manner.The niece of the priest, whose husband was an engineer and a soldier during the war,lived with her two year old son, her78mother and the priest's sister. In a five room residence. The niece, who was then 38, remembersthe events&"As if my Uncle Ferenc Petranyi had felt the oncoming danger, he was working at hisdesk that night. He had already felt the shadow of his death the same evening. The partisanwomen called for him at half past three. My son, whom my uncle loved very much was stillsleeping, my uncle wasn't even allowed to kiss his forehead in farewell. He was seen no more.We heard that he was being kept under arrest in the town hall or at the Central.We enquired whether or not we could send some food to him. The following day we sent somefood in a small basket with our maid. I put a white handkerchief under the plate. The maidwaited for the empty basket outside the Central. The handkerchief was in it, but it was allbloody. We thought that his nose had been bleeding as usual.We sent the maid to take his lunch next day, too. Then I put a big, white table-cloth underthe plates. Then the maid came back with the basket and we looked at the table-cloth. There wasthe mark of a tortured, bloody face on it, it was just like Veronica's veil.After that we could not send any more food to my uncle. We heard that he had jumpedout of the window and died at once. We were asked to send a coffin with one of the undertaker'sassistants. We did so, but we weren't allowed to go there. The only thing we were allowed to dowas to accompany the hearse with the closed coffin on it, they would not let us see my uncle'sbody.We stopped for a brief prayer in front of the church. My mother didn't come, just themaid and us, along with an armed partisan with the driver.With the help of the parishioners of Becse, my mother, a Yugoslavian citizen, could stayin the village. She had a nice marble tombstone placed on the grave of my uncle and a movingpoem engraved on it. My mother would have remembered the lines of the poem if she were stillalive, because now it cannot be read. The whole poem was chiselled off the tomb.My little son and I were taken to the silk factory with orphaned Szekely children from anear-by village. They didn't know what had happened to their parents."EARLY PARTISANS WITH LILY-WHITE HANDS"My father was drafted as a Hungarian soldier from Becse on Sunday, September 161944. My mother was left with her sons,